The Sixth Sense
I've been thinking about this blog entry for a good two weeks.
You know how it feels when no one is listening to you?
Well... I certainly do.
I often joke with my friend Lori,
(cue the whiny voice)
"No one is listening to me."
The last three and a half years, after moving from Greece, the Island of Lesvos back to America and the town, I grew up in, Dover, I've been literally jumping up and down about -
let's start this again....
"You lived in Greece." (yes, I know... acknowledging that glassy eyed dreamy look of the person who asked me and I moved back to Dover - I know.... never say never)
How come you moved from Greece back to America especially now?
The bottom fell out (some naive students looking at me bewildered)
"What do you mean?"
i.e. (for example)
then I say,
second bullet please...
"I saw a million and a half people running for their lives" - (that dreamy eyed look turns a bit more concerned...I nod and say yes, I lived on Lesvos for 13 years and was on the frontline of the refugee disaster in 2015).
If there is a map nearby, I use it and illustrate how close Lesvos is to Turkey where I give an ever so brief geography lesson.
I then usually show them my worry beads.
I have my touchstone worry beads because of the post traumatic stress disorder I got from working on a frontline disaster.
I tell them,
"I had to tell myself, if you help just three people a day you have done your job."
"Three people a day," they say (clueless).
"What do you mean?"
You see, there is a lot guilt in a disaster/crisis situation. And so what's happening today has happened before - history repeats itself - are you listening?
On the island during the peak of the disaster/crisis you couldn't drive or go anywhere without seeing people walking or in need of basic human items. (Water, food, shelter, health needs). And just to put it into perspective there were thousands of people walking from the North Shore to the South Shore of the Island.
Last bullet please...
I walked back into the American healthcare system to watch my father die. (This last one usually stops people dead in their tracks - my father was the billion dollar man - insurance wise in this great MAGA country of ours). If someone knew my father, they would usually quip one of his funny sayings or a story in remembrance. Hit 'em hard Nick was a raconteur, character of a man but underneath it all he was as soft as they come kinda like jelly roll Morton.
I am offered a Condolence. " I am sorry."
I generally say, "Thank you, my father was 85 and had a great life despite his handicap."
He contracted polio in 1953 and the Salk vaccine came out in 1954. He played football for Colby College and was playing UNH when he literally was taken off the field in a stretcher. The good news is he met my mother at Children's Hospital in Boston where she was the head nurse.
So when I say...
I was born for a pandemic
I really was...
So back to the DESTINY and FATE of it all and for goddess sake Andriana, the point of this blog the SIXTH SENSE.
This is the barn door on the side of the 1777 Fisher Barn that my friend Lori opened up that fateful day, November 29th Black Friday 2018 - move in day.
I fatefully as destiny would have it was presented with a huge gift.
There is another back story here.
I was told about the caretaker apartment at the Benjamin Caryl House through my friend Lori, who sent me an email via her colleague, Kim at the middle school. All this while I was in Metropolis Square in Athens fretting over getting up at the crack of dawn and submitting my father's death certificate to the Minister of the Interior. (Another story)
I often tell Lori "You saved my life."
But, I digress....
Same school system I grew up in and was to become a substitute teacher in - Dover - Sherborn Regional School system.
Meanwhile, back to move in day.
I was upstairs in my bedroom loft in the new pad, (visions of sugar plums and a good night sleep dancing in my head) blissfully putting on my flannel sheets when out of nowhere came the loudest, heart come out of your throat - get the adrenaline pumping - blood curdle of an alarm sound.
I was on! I move fast under duress and when I need to.
Nothing like a baptism by fire.
It was my first official day as Caretaker for the Benjamin Caryl House. I had to go into the museum house next door and put a code into the alarm and shut that FN thing off.
So, I focussed.
I did my job.
I got the key to the museum from the hidden place in my cabinet. Clutching the code as I walked out the door, I see Lori sauntering across the lawn like can you say "calamity Jane" style.
wink wink (who loves you god damn it)
I yell, "What the F.... are you doing?" in a high pitch aggravated voice.
"I just opened the barn door."
No SHIT Sherlock! Lori dubs this vid 'scaredy cat.'
Thus the beginning of my destiny with each day fatefully bringing me closer to the ghost and what my SIXTH SENSE already knew and felt
Yes... in the barn or in the museum as confirmed by my psychic friend Sue as told to me through pragmatic Jeannine.
Cue Dover's finest coming to the proverbial rescue 20 minutes later and no I don't mean the ghost but the cops. Another story to laugh at for the history books.
The Sixth Sense or the third eye opening up to spirits in the material world.
Look at all this old stuff around here there is bound to be something attached..
As caretaker, I take care of the property. When I weed or mow, I often think what it must have been like during revolutionary times. I look at the beautiful pines and oaks waving back and forth across the ballfield and think of the Native Americans. My backyard is the entrance into Noanet Woods - Trustees for Reservation land. I feel it but I want to know more history. I've been looking for information on Chief Noanet. Unfortunately, I come up empty handed. Erased from the books, just like his ancestors from American history.
Above the potato contraption geared for an age old era gone by was donated by Tommy Cronin. Some hardworking self sufficient farmer, maybe good ol' Benjamin Caryl or his son George attached the potato picker to oxen or a horse and plowed the ballfield out back. It's ancient archaeology and a slice of Dover's history now and is living and breathing next to the barn.
Meditate - third eye- intuition - your sixth sense -
I've always been interested in the third eye - sixth sense because I knew I had a bit of it in me.
Everyone does. You just need to learn how to flex the muscle.
So, that got me thinking about the pineal gland, where we control the pleasure seeking devices of our brain. These glands provide comfort and good energy in times of anxiety and stress which calms us and creates a sense of well-being. Our wellbeing is the stability of our healing.
Open the eye and you enter into the 5th dimension - another world and maybe another time.
Is it possible?
That 5th dimension also raises the vibration and so part of healing and relieving anxiety after you get the pleasure seeking endorphins cranking is doing something to raise the vibration.
SCREECH to a
no more for right now.... you need to isolate...
FIRESIDE SING A LONGS WITH
my security blankets -
Boston's best musicians in that red dark basement
no more Duke and da boyz
The very things that truthfully saved my life when I first walked back into American culture - completely culture shocked and feeling like a refugee in my own country.
When you raise the vibration that helps raise your intuition - sixth sense. Where's that ghost? How did you know someone was watching you?
I get a love bite from Smokey. Maybe the ghost is channeling through my animal spirit?
Back to smelling the apple blossoms as roses.
And listening to
Rain - the sound of music
Here the rhododendron tree acts as a barrier between the heavily trafficked Dedham Street and is my sweet smelling mask protecting me from the invisible enemy.
Apparently, this week is all about destiny and karma according to Zoe Moon my online astrologer. The north node of destiny is going to collide with the south node. The average person would be like what are you talking about.
This is the stuff that the sixth sense is made of.
The just knowing part.
Blue skies, the owl, the sun, the birds, the trees and the warmth of the first weekend of May.
"Don't let the turkeys get you down", I heard my father from the cemetery grave I just seeded with my mother's forget me not seeds she gave me 4 months ago.
So, today's moral of the story start listening to your sixth sense and your crazy assed friends who are jumping up and down giving you the bullets of their life.
Pandemics and history after all repeat themselves over and over again.
Apparently, I do too.
A sense of humor is needed in a situation like this when even I am sick of my own company.
The good news is
when I chant to Lord Ganesha each morning
This guy, my animal spirit is by my side...
He finally turns and gives me this look...
Smokey doing what cats who sniff spirits do - purring, sleeping and loving Spring time at the farm.